This is a real mindfuck. I want to just throw this out there – that nearly all relationships have the element of imagination in them. Let me explain. I’m speaking from a woman’s perspective here, so screw all the guys. I grew up thinking that love was the Salvation. That Prince motherfucker Charming would come swoop me up and carry me away from all the bad stuff around me. I wasn’t a very happy child, though, a bit too old in my head to co-exist peacefully with my peers. At the same time I was like a complete baby when it came to relationships, when it came to knowing how you were supposed to feel and especially how others were supposed to treat you.
First of all, I didn’t end up with my Prince Charming the first time around (he came seven years later, punctual as always). I met my ex in a drunken stupor at some college party where he completely didn’t belong. I felt like an old maid at that point in my life and desperately wanted to feel special and loved. And so I took whatever I could get. It didn’t feel as special as I expected. It didn’t feel like it was supposed to be in the movies. It felt awkward and unsatisfying. On our first date we literally bumped our heads together hard, and that should have been my cue to leave the scene of the crime. But no no, here was my chance to finally have a shot at love. I spent that first date wondering what he was talking about, half the time I couldn’t follow his stories. Not that I am stupid, the idiot just can’t string a logical sentence together if his life depended on it. But I put a smile on my face and went on with it.
I felt let down, basically. That now I had this opportunity to feel so much, and it just didn’t feel right. So how did I deal with that? I created an imaginary relationship. He and I became my very own psychological Ken and Barbie dolls, sans the Malibu dream house. I built up an idea in my head of what the relationship was really like, of what he was really like. And I was ever so in love with the Idea, the Idea could never fail. The Idea couldn’t disappoint me. But his actions kept scratching at the perfect surface. My picture perfect relationship wasn’t so picture perfect at all. For every time he disappointed me, it chipped away at my mental veneer. For every time he chose not to validate my feelings, the Idea faded. And finally, the Idea died, and I was left with Reality.
It was really brutal to wake up to the fact that I had spent seven years of my life on someone I had absolutely nothing in common with. Except maybe for one thing. Part of me believes that he cherished the Idea as well. But he never really knew me at all. And so we spent all that time in the same home as complete strangers, trying to fit our respective square pegs into a hole.
So that’s my experience but I KNOW that this is very common. That women often feel so disappointed with their partners, because they don’t live up to the Idea. And that’s not really fair, not to yourself or your significant other. It’s time for a reality check, girls. Take a look at yourself and ask “are you truly happy, or do you just THINK you are?”
I can tell you that I never felt more relieved in my life than when I let myself finally be OK with the fact that I wasn’t happy, that the relationship had failed. And at that moment, it was the easiest thing in the world to say goodbye to him, goodbye to the Idea.
I don’t need the Idea anymore in my life, thankfully. I get a heavy dose of reality every day, and I fucking love it. It’s real, it’s dirty, it’s wonderful, and most importantly – it’s mine.
